


Aspirin

by SamFuckingWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Comforting Dean Winchester, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamFuckingWinchester/pseuds/SamFuckingWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Part of him wished for Dean so much that it seemed as if some of the residual ache from his head had moved to the cavity of his chest and settled there like a cough you couldn’t shake for weeks."<br/>Set in 1.20 - Sam has a migraine</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aspirin

**Author's Note:**

> My works are starting to take place along the flow of my rewatch, so if this is too general I apologize. It'll get better, I promise. Thanks for reading! - Jensen

To Sam’s credit, the day had been unbearably long. Vampires. Vampires were not extinct. A gun that could kill the demon that murdered their mother, and Jess. Dad had been saving money for Sam and Dean to go to college. They could have been normal; they were meant to be normal.

But it’d been such a long time since he’d had a migraine. The last one Sam could remember was years ago, the month of freshmen finals at Stanford. It was bad enough that Brady had offered to take him to the school’s hospital wing. _And to check out all the nursing students, Sam, think of the nursing students._ Sam’s not scared of very many things. He told Sarah as much. And he sure as hell doesn’t cry. So when he feels the tears leaking out of his eyes without his permission, he does his best to wipe them before Dean sees. He’s not sure if his brother will make fun of him, or unnecessarily worry, but Sam wouldn’t care for either reaction. He’s doubled over on the bed of the motel room, hands rubbing circles over his temples, trying desperately to ease the ache that’s like a jackhammer in his skull.

His father’s busy drawing up plans on the table beside, doesn’t notice that Sam’s writhing in pain, though to John’s credit, that’s the whole point. Sam bites his lip and scrunches his eyes tighter, as if he can block any light filtering in from the moon, not that it mattered.

Part of him wished for Dean so much that it seemed as if some of the residual ache from his head had moved to the cavity of his chest and settled there like a cough you couldn’t shake for weeks. The other part knew that if he was here it wouldn’t matter; Dean wouldn’t dare touch Sam the way he ached to be touched with their father in such close proximity. Dean didn’t take chances. _You shouldn’t either, Sam._ His brother’s voice only added to the mounting pressure in his head. He took a long breath through his mouth and held it deep in his lungs for a few seconds, before slowly exhaling. It was probably worth getting up to rifle through his bag and find some kind of medication. Even aspirin would do.

As Sam gathered up the courage to remove his fingers from their spot over his temples, the door of the hotel room creaked open. Sam couldn’t bother to open his eyes, not that it mattered. John Winchester wouldn’t have even let a stranger make it to the door, much less open it, unless it was his son. Of course, that’s when things got awkward.

“Sam?” _Yep, I’m fine, Dean_ , is what he meant to say. All that came out was a strangled whimper, though, and the thump of the blood Dean had been sent to retrieve from the morgue on the table John had been sitting at reverberated through his skull. Sam was kind of sure his brain was mush as this point, just solid enough to focus on things like _Dean_ and _pain, oh God, pain_. He thinks absently he might be sick, and he should mention that to his brother so that he can get out of the way. Dean would be pissed if Sam ruined his clothes, with vomit no less. Again, all that comes out is a groan. “Is it a vision?” Dean murmurs, his breath hot on Sam’s cheeks, too hot and not warm enough at the same time. John must not hear Dean, because he doesn’t interject with a question. In fact, his father hasn’t made a sound yet. Sam shakes his head, not trusting his voice just yet. The jostling movement makes the throbbing worse though, and yeah, he probably will puke. Dean instinctively moves a hair backwards.

“Migraine,” Sam finally musters. His eyelids flutter open, feeling Dean’s hand on his cheek. Sam’s not sure why Dean is doing something so stupid in front of Dad, but he trusts his brother enough to let him rub his thumb across his little brother’s cheek anyway.

“Have you taken anything yet?”

“Was goin’ to,” Sam insists, closing his eyes again when Dean’s hand leaves his skin.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Sam?” John’s voice is like someone is shouting at him through a megaphone compared to Dean’s soft drawl. He resists the urge to shrink away from the sound. He can’t seem to think of a good answer in time, because his brother is already back at his side with a glass of water and a few white pills. Sam opens his eyes just long enough to take the medication and drink the water, all of it, because Dean is wearing that expression that tells him he’s got no other choice, before returning to his curled up position on the bed.

“That’s it, Sammy. Just relax. It’ll go away soon,” Dean assures, like he knows, and Sam tries to let his limbs unfurl. He finds it a more difficult task than originally planned, and settles for having his legs crooked at his knees, arms awkwardly draped over his head to cover his face. John and Dean are having a conversation, probably about the vampires, but Sam is doing his best not to listen. When the door to the room opens and shuts again, he feels the bed dip beside him, and his brother’s hand rubbing circles at the base of his neck. “I won’t let him go without you. We’ll wait ‘till your headache is gone,” Dean promises. Sam sighs gratefully, curling into the massage. His head is already starting to feel just a little bit better.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be noted, I have a huge headcanon that Sam gets stress migraines. Just saying. Also experimenting with rich text this time around. Thanks for the patience.


End file.
